


And so the Tide Turns

by Silverhaunter



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BUT ALSO HAPPY, Father and Son Relationship, Fix-it fic, Gen, I love Edward, Is it a Fix-it fic?, Kinda follows canon up to a point, Maybe - Freeform, Sad, Violence, and Haytham
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11905146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverhaunter/pseuds/Silverhaunter
Summary: Connor just can't do it, for some reason.Can't raise his blade.Whether it's because it's his father, or because he just doesn't want to be remembered for patricide,He doesn't know.Haytham just can't do it either.Can't keep his hands cemented.And whether it's because of Ziio or his own father, Edward, is yet to be determined.(MAJOR Spoilers for AC III)





	And so the Tide Turns

**Author's Note:**

> I love Edward and I really did NOT want to kill Haytham because I got into M rated games with Assassin's Creed Black Flag (my brother was huge into them.)  
> And so kinda love the Kenways and I was like WELL HOW DO I MAKE IT SO I CAN LOVE ON MY BOYS BUT NOT KILL ANY OF THEM probably AND FILL MY SADO-MASOCHISTIC NEEDS well here it is

Patricide: The killing of one's father.  
Filicide: The killing of one's child.

Haytham pressed his hand to Connor's throat, and his own words fell from his lips without him noticing.

  
The boy had already been injured, yelling wildly, _howling_ like a wolf, searching for Charles, and did not attack Haytham during their scuffle, or make any effort of it, whether he was incapable physically or psychologically to attack his own father, Haytham wasn't confident enough to confirm.

  
Connor was making sounds, grunts, trying to breathe, his mind swayed as if he was on a ship, a warmth radiating through his entire body, his brain closed off from oxygen, he almost seemed a little peaceful at first, before his eyes turned cold as he was shocked from his warm hysteria.

  
'I'm going to die here.'

  
Haytham studied the boy's face, how it was dazed, at first, eyes hazy with warmth from lack of oxygen, and then cold with shock and fear, but ignored (or tried to) the similarities of ....her he saw in them, and of his own father.  
His father....  
Haytham shifted his thoughts, as quickly as he could, before his weakness could slip through.

As Haytham began to press harder on Connor's throat, the feeling of warmth faded into a feeling of terror unparalleled to anything he'd had ever felt before.

No, that wasn't true, he'd felt this before, back in the forest, but he was as helpless as he'd been then, and the same coldness- no, a _similar_ coldness radiated from his father's eyes, although, sometimes his mask would slip and he'd consider something, before pressing down harder.

Connor squirmed for the first while,his own throat collapsing on itself, and he rose his arm to stop it, eyes meeting those of his own father's, his right hand rested on the fine material of Haytham's wrist, and his left rose to pierce his throat.

  
But he didn't.

  
His blade scratched the side of Haytham's throat, and it stopped, beads of blood rising from the small wound, slithering down his neck like a cobra of red death.   
His father's eyes shifted to the action,  
Even as Connor's mind screamed in protest,  
_Do it, end it, free yourself by any means neccesary!_  
He dropped his hand to the ground, and exhaling, let himself fall limp.  
He couldn't stop himself from gasping, the way he was frightened, his whole body felt like it was screaming, horrified,but he couldn't help it.  
He wasn't scared of death, he told himself, but his lungs ached for air.

"Forgiv...e me..?" Connor whispered, as his lungs protested, gagging on the way both of Haytham's hands pressed down on his throat, he let his eyes close, and his hand go limp.

"For what might you be begging forgiveness?" Haytham sneered, pressing into Connor's throat with his weight, a pathetic attempt, Haytham thought, hate and irrationality clouding his mind, he couldn't connect Connor with the idea of son anymore, not right now, when just a while ago... Haytham tried to block out the fondness he began to feel, and bared his teeth.

"Weakness..." Connor's lungs sucked in air, but he did not move, rather, Haytham did not _think_ he did.

  
Blood began pooling from Connor's side, causing Haytham to lose his stability, slipping on the carmine cobblestone,the blood dripping from the wound on his side where he'd dug his own hidden blade into his flesh, wih a cry of pain, seeking escape from the fear he was feeling, from the horror of suffication, from Haytham.  
Connor's head rolled to the side, unresponsive, his lips parted in search of air, teeth stained with blood from an earlier injury.

He was peaceful, for once, silent when he was usually yelling, lifting his head as if entitled to something greater, pouncing from trees onto men like a great cat, like an eagle swooping down to catch it's prey in it's extended talons... 

Why now, was Haytham reminded of Ziio?  
Of how his own _son_ lie dying on these rocks?  
Of how he left her?  
Of... of how he imagined her death during the night, a cold sweat forming on his skin.  
He'd loved Ziio, in his own way.  
He'd loved his father, too.  
His father...  
Is that why Haytham lifted Connor, dragging him out of the fort before it was blown to pieces?  
Because of how Edward, had tried, had really honestly tried to raise him right, to try to be a good dad, even if he wasn't the best at being a father.  
Haytham had read what Edward had written all his travels down in, after his father had died.  
How he lost his first wife, his first mate, his best man, his love, his friends.  
But still, he'd tried to keep Haytham safe from that world.  
He hadn't been cruel to Haytham, even if Haytham had been different.  
And that's... that's why, Haytham told himself,  
_That's why I'll save my son._  
That's why I'll apologize,  
That's why I'll go home,  
It's what... Edward and Ziio would have done.  
So why was he finding it so hard?

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are literally what fuel me to be alive thanks sorry if it was bad


End file.
